


This Could Take a Lifetime

by menel



Series: 30 Days OTP Challenge [9]
Category: X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Imprisonment, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Weapon X Project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 9 of the 30 Days OTP Fic Challenge<br/>Prompt: Hanging out with friends </p><p><i>Friendship:</i> [noun] the emotions or conduct of friends; the state of being friends; a relationship between friends </p><p>Cyclops and Wolverine didn’t get off to a good start. That’s what happens when your secret mission is to get close to the X-Men so you can assassinate their leader and sleep with the Boy Scout’s would-be girlfriend along the way. But after banding together to defeat Magneto, Wolverine is out to make amends – with the Professor, with the team and with a certain optic blast wielding field leader. Too bad Weapon X has different ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Clean Slate

**Author's Note:**

> This fic loosely follows Mark Millar’s _Return to Weapon X_ storyline (Ultimate X-Men #7-12), but you don’t need prior knowledge of the comics to read the fic. There’s exposition when necessary and most of the fic is about filling in ‘missing scenes’ that chart the development of Wolverine and Cyclops’ relationship, using Millar’s storyline as the background.

Logan was in the shadows of the hangar bay smoking a cigar when the Blackbird landed. Unbeknownst to the other X-Men, Wolverine had taken to spending more time in the underground bay. It was not a coincidence that Cyclops also spent a lot of time in the hangar, usually tinkering with his beloved Blackbird. But Logan made sure that his presence remained undetected. He understood that the Blackbird and the bay was a kind of sanctuary for the field leader of the X-Men, and contrary to popular belief, Logan didn’t want to intrude on that sanctuary. Instead, he preferred to watch Cyclops from afar. When this had turned into a habit Logan wasn’t too sure, and he would certainly never admit to his little habit-bordering-on-creepy-stalker-behavior, especially when Cyclops was concerned. 

The bay had been empty in more than just a physical sense since Scott had stormed off to Magneto’s stronghold in the Savage Land. That had taken real balls, and Logan had been grudgingly impressed that the teacher’s pet, the perfect Boy Scout had not only defied his surrogate father’s wishes, but had defected to the _other_ team . . . _and_ had taken the Blackbird with him. That last detail always made Logan smile. Rebellion was a word he didn’t associate with Scott Summers.

Never mind that Wolverine had technically worked for the ‘other team’ and had been sent to the X-Men by Magneto to assassinate Charles Xavier. The truth was that coming to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children was _exactly_ what Logan had expected it to be, and nothing like what Logan had thought it would be. He thought the job would be relatively quick and straightforward, no different from any other job that Magneto had given him before. He’d gain entrance to the school, he’d earn Xavier’s trust, and when the opportunity presented itself . . . Well, that would be the end of that. 

Except that it wasn’t.

Marvel Girl had caught his eye, and then he’d warmed to the misfit X-Men: Beast with his genius IQ and impressive (sometimes X-rated) Danger Room simulations; Iceman and his sense of humor; Storm’s no nonsense attitude; and Colossus, the former mob enforcer turned gentle giant. Finally, there was Cyclops the strategist – cool, unflappable, and seemingly with a permanent steel rod up his ass. Logan perversely wanted to shatter that façade, wanted to get under the other man’s skin, had fantasized more than once of putting something else up Cyclops’ ass. He couldn’t explain what it was about Scott Summers that drew him to the other man, but there was definitely something there. Which is why Wolverine stayed as far away from Summers as he could while simultaneously goading him as much as possible, including stealing Summers’ would-be girlfriend – not that Marvel Girl had put up much of a fight. 

Logan supposed he could attribute his uncharacteristic behavior to the mental powers of Charles Xavier (he didn’t think Chuck was as benevolent and magnanimous as the others made him out to be, as the Professor portrayed himself to be), except that wouldn’t be accurate. Weapon X may have fucked him up real good, but their training had also given him the ability to his shield his thoughts against psionic manipulation. On more than one occasion he’d felt the probing of both Xavier and Marvel Girl, and after blocking their efforts they’d left him in peace. At least, mentally. Charles Xavier had tried a more traditional approach with him – talking. To his shock, Wolverine _listened_. Charles was charismatic. Persuasive. Intelligent. In many ways, he reminded Wolverine of Magneto. Somewhere along the line – Logan couldn’t pinpoint when – he’d bought into Charles Xavier’s dream of co-integration.

Sure, the X-Men were still skeptical about him despite what he’d done to help stop Magneto’s plans to destroy the United States. Jean had said as much in their little shouting match in one of the corridors of the mansion as Scott had wheeled the Professor by. Logan had only been half-listening to Jean at that point, his senses more attuned to the scent of Summers – a scent he’d missed while Scott had sojourned in the Savage Land. He was leaving the following day and he’d avoided Summers for long enough. He was going to have a word with the field leader of the X-Men before he departed, and what happened in that conversation might just shape his future actions, especially where the X-Men were concerned. 

That’s why after Jean had finished yelling at him, Wolverine had skulked back to the spacious rec room where the rest of the team could be found. Storm was sprawled asleep on a sofa, a magazine half falling off of her lap. Piotr was relaxing in a large rattan armchair at the back of the room, softly strumming his guitar as he watched the antics of Hank and Bobby who were riveted to the widescreen TV and the video game in which they were both completely absorbed. Logan had plopped down on the matching sofa opposite Storm, watching through his peripheral vision as Cyclops had wheeled the Professor to the wide verandah behind the rec room. From where he was sitting, Logan had a good vantage point of those two. He’d give Summers time to make up with his mentor and then he was going to have the first X-Man all to himself. 

Logan made himself comfortable on the plush sofa as he surveyed the peaceful and shockingly mundane scene about him. It was a far cry from the poker nights, the drinking and the crass jokes he’d shared while on stakeouts with the Brotherhood. Everything at this school was just so damn _wholesome_. He should’ve felt out of place, he should’ve been corrupting young minds. Instead, the thought that occurred to him as he cheered Beast on was, _This is what friendship is_.

* * * * *

_It was good to be back._

That was the thought running through Scott Summers’ mind as he appreciated the last embers of the sunset as he looked over the school grounds. Westchester County was peaceful, the location of the school a perfect idyll. The Savage Land had its own kind of beauty, wild and untamed, but this was where Scott belonged. He would never doubt that again. 

Scott hadn’t known what to expect when he arrived back at the School. The Professor’s anger? His resentment at Scott’s betrayal? His disappointment? (That last reaction would’ve crushed Scott. He’d take anger and resentment over disappointment any day.) He hadn’t known how his teammates would react to his return either. He’d essentially abandoned them, probably when they needed him most, and rabbited off to _Magneto_ of all people. It was very un-leader like behavior. Maybe Xavier was wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t fit to lead the X-Men after all.

Out of all the possible scenarios running through his head, the one he’d considered the least likely was the one that had taken place – he was welcomed back with open arms. The team had been thrilled to see him, Bobby slapping him on the back with a frosted hand and Marvel Girl crushing him with a fierce hug. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” Jean had mentally admonished him as she’d hugged him. It made Scott feel warm inside to see Jean’s open and sincere affection for him. 

“We missed those optic blasts of yours in battle,” Beast had said, good-humoredly. 

“Yeah, nothing like sheer raw power to lobotomize a Sentinel,” Storm had added. 

“I hear well-placed lightning strikes are just as effective,” Scott had replied. 

Storm’s mouth had dropped open in shock. “Did leader man just make a joke?” she’d asked the others in mock horror. 

“Hey,” Jean had said, slinging an arm about Scott’s shoulders. “Cyclops has a _great_ sense of humor . . . when you get to know him better,” she’d added, giving Scott a warm smile that almost made him blush. 

Gathered around him in the hangar, the team had laughed and Scott wondered what he’d done to deserve such loyalty and such good friends. In the distance, he’d been aware of Wolverine’s presence but he hadn’t acknowledged the other man. 

Now it was Wolverine who was striding across the verandah shortly after the Professor had departed. Scott watched the other man, remembering the Professor’s words. Wolverine had proven himself an X-Man in the Professor’s eyes. He’d earned the right to be called an X-Man. If he was good enough for Charles Xavier, then he was good enough for Cyclops too, although thinking of Wolverine as a ‘teammate’ would still take some getting used to. 

Logan was carrying two beers. He held the other one out to Scott in offering when he stopped in front of the small table where the Professor and Scott had been sitting. 

Scott looked at Logan once before glancing at the beer. “You do realize that I’m underage?” he said after a moment. 

Somehow Logan managed to hold back a sigh. “Figures,” he muttered. In a louder voice he said, “You can share a glass of bubbly with Chuck but not a beer with me?” 

Scott gave him a wry smile. “With your senses,” he began. “I thought you’d be able to tell that we drank non-alcoholic cider.” 

Logan wasn’t surprised. _Of course_ , Cyclops followed the Professor’s no underage drinking rule. That was one of the reasons why he went on beer runs with Storm. 

“Brought you this,” Logan said instead, reaching behind him for the can of orange juice that was his back-up plan. 

This time Cyclops took the orange juice, opening the can just as Logan popped open his beer. 

“What’s the occasion?” Scott asked. 

Logan shrugged off-handedly. “Oh, I dunno,” he said casually. “Saving humanity?” 

“Didn’t think that was part of your repertoire,” Scott observed. 

“I’m expanding,” Logan answered. He held out his beer wondering if Scott would share a toast with him. 

There was the clink of metal against metal and then they were both drinking. Scott was watching him thoughtfully when he put down his can of orange juice. 

“Is this your idea of a peace offering?” he asked eventually. 

“Ya can call it whatever ya want, Cyke,” Logan replied. 

Scott sat down at the table and Logan took that to be an invitation to join him. 

“You and me,” Logan said, gesturing between them. “What we need is a clean slate.” 

“Does Wolverine do clean slates?” Scott asked evenly, his voice betraying only a hint of amusement. 

“Does Cyclops?” Logan threw back. 

Now Scott was smiling, making Logan realize how rarely he ever saw the other man smile, or drop his guard for that matter. 

“I can do a clean slate,” Scott said. 

“I can as well,” Logan said, just as quickly. 

“You really are expanding your repertoire.” 

“You say that as if you know me.” 

Scott looked down at his orange juice, slowly rotating the can in his hands. “No,” he said thoughtfully, his gaze still averted. “I don’t know you, Logan. Not beyond what I’ve read of your Weapon X files, and what I’ve seen of you in training and on missions.” 

“Ya don’t trust me,” Logan said flatly. 

Scott looked up again. “The _team_ doesn’t trust you,” he said. “Trust is something that has to be earned,” he added seriously. “You didn’t come here with the best of intentions.”

Logan leaned back in his seat. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “So, what do I gotta do to earn your trust?” 

“You could try sticking around for starters.” 

“Heard about my little trip, did ya?” 

“The Professor mentioned it. And Jean didn’t seem all that pleased with the news either.” 

“Trust me, your girlfriend is happy to see me off the reservation.” 

Scott could feel himself flush. “Jean’s not my girlfriend,” he corrected. 

“She wants to be,” Logan shrugged. “If you ever man up and ask her out.” 

Logan could sense the displeasure rolling off of Summers, though the other man gave no outward sign. _Time to backtrack_ , Wolverine thought. For once he wasn’t out to pick a fight with Cyclops.

“Heading to Arizona in the mornin’,” Logan said, taking another drink of his beer. 

There was a pause before Summers replied. “What’s in Arizona?” 

“Dunno. Weapon X, maybe.” 

“Weapon X? _That’s_ what you’re hoping to find?” 

“It’s what I’m _lookin’_ for.”

Scott’s expression had grown thoughtful again. “For revenge?” he asked quietly. 

Logan’s smile was predatory. “If that happens, then that happens,” he said, a little too casually. “Y’know, Charley-boy’s interested in finding them too.” 

This bit of news got a reaction out of Cyclops. “The Professor plans to take on Weapon X?” he asked a little incredulously. 

“Not so sure about that, though the Prof’s none too happy ‘bout what Weapon X is doin’, or who Weapon X is doin’ it for.” 

“Well, that’s an understatement,” Scott agreed. “The President said that he would stop all government-sanctioned mutant experimentation and recruitment. I’d say that would put Weapon X right at the top of the list.” 

“Weapon X ain’t S.H.I.E.L.D.’s black ops arm for nothin’,” Logan reminded him darkly. 

A silence fell between them as Logan finished his beer. He was just opening the second can, the one that he’d originally brought for Summers, when his companion spoke again. 

“Feel like some company for your reconnaissance trip?” 

“You watchin’ my back or keepin’ an eye on me, Cyclops?” 

“A bit of both,” Scott admitted. “Hey, it’s what teammates do.”


	2. A Fight and an Almost Fuck

Arizona was a giant dustbowl. Scott stood back and surveyed the scene while Logan explored what was left of the Weapon X compound. With the Professor’s directions they’d found the place easily enough. In fact, Scott was a little surprised at how quickly they found it. He’d expected the compound to have better cover, but no, it was out in the middle of nowhere, and he’d landed the Blackbird at the facility’s front gate. 

After his inspection, Logan stood on the deck overlooking the facility while Scott leaned against the wall. When Logan suddenly spoke, Scott knew that the other man was addressing the Professor. 

“I guess your information was a little out of date, Professor,” Logan said, in a voice so loud and clear it was obvious that he didn’t care whether Scott heard him or not. “Smells to me like Weapon X moved out of Arizona close to six weeks ago now.” 

Scott wasn’t privy to the Professor’s reply, and he didn’t mind. This was between the Professor and Logan. With not much else to do, he found himself studying Wolverine. Their trip wasn’t official X-Men business, and for once Scott was glad they weren’t wearing their uniforms. Sure, the black latex that doubled as a Sentinel-cloaking device was badass and practical, but Arizona was _hot_ and it was nice to be in civvies for a change. Of course, civilian attire was the _norm_ for Wolverine.

Speaking of Wolverine, the man was dressed in a wife beater, a pair of black jeans that left little to the imagination, a ratty cowboy hat and black cowboy boots. He looked like he’d just walked out of a modern day Western. Scott was beginning to understand why Jean found Wolverine attractive. Logan was the rebel, the bad boy who possessed an animal magnetism. Scott was Logan’s antithesis. He was _nice_ ; the good guy who wore a polo shirt and neatly pressed khakis in the middle of the Arizona desert. Jean would flirt with him, but she would sleep with Wolverine. That’s the way the world worked. Scott was mulling this over when Logan appeared in front of him, his discussion with Xavier apparently finished. 

“We’re done here,” Logan told him. 

Scott nodded. “Sorry it was a bust,” he said, pushing off the wall. 

“The Professor doesn’t seem to think so,” Logan said, falling into step beside him. They walked down the steel staircase from the viewing deck. 

“But you do,” Scott said absently. 

“Doesn’t have to be,” Logan answered. 

Scott stopped and gave Logan a sideways look. “Is there another lead you want to investigate?” he asked.

Wolverine shook his head and kept on walking. “Just meant that we should turn this into a day trip,” he said over his shoulder. “No need for us to head back right away.” 

“A day trip,” Scott repeated, now walking behind Wolverine down the steps. “Just because the Professor doesn’t make you attend classes or take exams –” 

Logan spun around suddenly and Scott almost walked straight into him. “Playing hooky would be good for you,” Logan said, holding his ground. 

Scott held his ground too, even though he’d never been this close to Wolverine except when they were sparring in the Danger Room. “Tired of the Professor’s rules already?” he half-taunted. 

Wolverine’s grin was sly, bordering on lascivious. Scott could’ve sworn that the other man was leaning into him, making Scott thankful for the height difference between them. 

“Rules were made to be broken,” Logan stated. 

“Not all of them,” Scott countered. 

“C’mon, Boy Scout.” It was Logan’s turn to sound taunting. “Live a little.” 

Scott remained silent, his face impassive. 

“Lemme show you the real world.” 

“I _know_ what the real world’s like.” 

“Oh yeah?” Logan arched an eyebrow. “Ya think the Professor’s mutant safe haven and ivory tower is the real world? ‘Cuz I got news for you. That’s about as far from the real world as you can get.” 

“I lived a very different life before Professor Xavier found me,” Scott said. 

“Yeah?” Logan said again, his interest piqued. “Then ya can tell me all about it.”

* * * * *

It didn’t surprise Scott that Logan’s idea of the ‘real world’ was a dusty bar still in the middle of nowhere, but a tad closer to civilization than the Weapon X facility had been. He’d refused to leave the Blackbird at Weapon X, so Scott had landed her near the bar and left her cloaking device on.

“Logan, it’s not even noon,” Scott said, reluctantly following the other man into what looked like a modern day saloon. Logan had sniffed out a cowboy watering hole to match his cowboy persona. Scott felt more out of place than ever. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, bub,” Logan said, lighting a cigar as he took a seat at the nearest available table. He pointed to the clock above the bar. “It’s exactly noon and we gotta eat, don’t we?” 

“We don’t have to eat _here_ ,” Scott said, even as he took a seat opposite the other man. 

“I s’ppose you’d prefer a coffee shop in the city,” Logan replied, puffing cigar in Scott’s direction. The other man crinkled his nose in distaste and Logan inwardly smiled. 

A waitress wearing a cut-off t-shirt two sizes too small for her materialized at their table. She handed them two plastic menus. “What’ll it be, boys?” she asked.

“Scotch,” Logan answered. “And leave the bottle.” Pointing at Scott, he added, “Orange juice for him.” 

Scott couldn’t decide what he hated more, the fact that Logan had ordered for him (he didn’t bother to correct the orange juice) or that Logan thought it was perfectly fine to drink a bottle of scotch in the middle of the day. He settled for being irritated at the scotch. 

“Scotch?” he said, when their waitress had left, his voice turning the word into an accusation. 

“Are we on a mission?” Logan asked innocently. 

“And if we were?” Scott pushed, his voice taking on the steel edge of Cyclops. 

“Then I’d be drinking beer.” 

The quip startled Scott and the sharp look he’d leveled at Logan mellowed somewhat. Logan must’ve sensed his change in demeanor because the grin he flashed wasn’t the challenging dare it would’ve been a few seconds ago. 

“If we were really on a mission,” Scott continued smoothly, his voice no longer filled with rancor. “There’d be no drinking at all. This isn’t the Brotherhood.” 

“No, it ain’t,” Logan agreed. “Ya gonna get those bad habits out of me, Cyclops?” 

“I’m going to try,” Scott said sincerely. 

That got a laugh out of Wolverine, startling Scott a second time. “Gonna be some mighty interesting team bonding then,” Logan said, smiling at their waitress as she came back with their drinks. 

“Is that what this is?” Scott asked after Nancy (Scott had managed to look at their waitress’s nametag this time) had taken their orders. He’d settled for a chicken burrito, mildly surprised that Logan had ordered the same thing. 

Logan shrugged before he savored the first taste of his whisky. “Not much of a team player,” he commented. 

“Yet here you are.” 

Logan put down his glass and Scott would swear that the other man was looking straight through his visor. 

“Here I am.”

* * * * *

Scott had expected lunch with Logan to be quiet (he wasn’t sure the two of them could carry a conversation or what they would even talk about), probably uncomfortable but it was neither of those things. They weren’t chatty men by any standard, but Logan got the ball rolling by asking about their fellow X-Men. Scott was respectful about his friends’ privacy, but Logan’s questions were general and non-invasive (did Wolverine know the meaning of ‘tact’ after all?), giving Scott the sense that the rest of the team hadn’t been particularly open with Logan either. He couldn’t blame them. Logan’s past didn’t inspire a lot of trust. Scott answered what he could depending on what seemed appropriate. It was noticeable that Logan didn’t ask any personal questions about Scott, for which Scott was secretly thankful, and also stayed away from the topic of Jean. In exchange, Logan shared information about the Brotherhood, and he and Scott swapped stories about their time with Magneto’s crew although Scott’s stint had been much, much shorter.

“So,” Logan said at one point, drawing the word out. “Did Wanda make a move on you?” 

Scott almost choked on his burrito. How did Logan know about _that_? He looked at the other man suspiciously, which only made Logan laugh. 

“She’s had a crush on you for a while,” Logan explained. “It ain’t a secret. Also explains why Quicksilver ain’t your biggest fan.” 

“He’s the protective big brother?” 

“Aren’t they all?” Logan drawled. 

Scott gave the other man a wry grin.

“So,” Logan said again. “ _Did_ Wanda make a move on you?” 

“That’s a little too personal, Wolverine.” 

“What happened to team bonding, Cyclops?” 

Scott remained silent but he knew he was still grinning. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Logan said after a while. 

Scott sighed.

“She ain’t the only one interested.” 

At Scott’s questioning look, Logan motioned to a group of roughnecks who were sitting a few tables away. Scott had noticed their leering glances and gestures a while ago, but he’d chosen to ignore them. 

“I don’t think I’m their type,” Scott said dryly, looking back at Logan. 

“Pretty boy like you?” Logan answered. “Yer _exactly_ their type, but don’t worry. I’ll protect ya, Princess.” 

Scott could feel his irritation flaring. “I don’t need your protection, Wolverine,” he said. “And we’re not here to pick a fight,” he added. 

“ _We_ may not be here to pick a fight,” Logan shrugged. “Doesn’t mean they won’t.” 

“You sound like you want them to,” Scott commented. 

Logan’s grin was a little predatory. “A fight and a fuck,” he stated. “Day wouldn’t be complete without ‘em.” 

Scott shook his head and focused on the remainder of his burrito. There were more habits he’d have to try and break in Wolverine.

* * * * *

They almost made it out of the bar without an incident. Almost.

Trouble began brewing when the roughnecks that Logan had motioned to began lavishing their attention on Nancy, who was also their unfortunate waitress. In fact, Nancy seemed to be the only waitress on duty. Logan had caught Scott’s disapproving look immediately. 

“Yer white knight complex kickin’ in?” he asked casually, helping himself to another tumbler of Scotch. He was two thirds of the way through the bottle and he was starting to get that pleasant buzz. Hangovers were virtually impossible for him, but his healing factor mercifully allowed him to feel some effects of alcohol, especially if he drank the stronger stuff, and if he drank at a steady enough pace, which he was doing now. 

“It’s bad enough that she works in a place like this,” Scott said. “She shouldn’t be harassed on the job as well.” 

Logan downed the whisky. “Dealin’ with assholes like them is probably part of the job description,” he pointed out. 

“That doesn’t make it right,” Scott muttered. 

“And the bit about not picking a fight?” Logan chided him. 

Scott’s frown grew deeper. Logan thought he looked adorable, not that he’d ever say _that_ out loud. 

When the roughnecks began to get physical with Nancy, Scott stood up. He gave Logan a resigned look. “Non-lethal force,” he told the other man quietly before leaving the table and walking towards the rowdy group. 

Logan grinned as he poured himself another drink. Cyclops was starting to grow on him. Apparently, there was more there than just a pretty face and a tight ass. He brought the tumbler to his lips as he watched Scott approach the group. There were five guys. He was tempted to let Cyclops kick their asses on his own. He knew that Scott wouldn’t use his optic blasts against those assholes, even though they probably deserved it. Despite Logan’s joke about protecting Scott, he was well aware that Cyclops could take care of himself. In fact, it got him a little hot watching Cyclops be a badass. 

He stood up as well when one of the men pushed Nancy into Scott’s arms. Scott caught her easily enough. The other guys were getting to their feet. Scott was speaking quietly to Nancy, no doubt reassuring her and telling her to stay out of the impending fight. He cast a look in Logan’s direction. It was a silent request for backup. Logan nodded. 

Before Logan had even taken a step in their direction the first punch had been thrown. Scott had anticipated it and ducked so effortlessly that Logan wondered if the other man didn’t have enhanced senses of his own. Scott countered with his own well-placed punch and his attacker hit the floor dazed. Another guy rushed at him and Scott kicked the chair nearest to him to block this second attacker. The chair hit the goon and he stumbled. A third guy approached Scott from the back. Scott ducked again avoiding a second hit while simultaneously launching an attack of his own. He got the third guy in the gut. The ‘oomph’ the guy made as the wind was knocked out of him was clearly audible to Logan’s sensitive hearing. 

Logan grinned into his tumbler. Yeah, watching Cyclops fight was definitely a turn on. 

“Some help here?” Scott called over to him. 

“Yer doin’ great!” Logan said, holding up in his glass in a mock toast. 

Scott’s stunned look, his mouth dropping open in incredulity and surprise, was priceless. Of course, as soon as the words of encouragement left Logan’s mouth, goons four and five from the other side of the table had reached Scott. One of them grabbed Summers around the neck, choking him while his companion punched Scott in the stomach. It would’ve been so easy for Scott to reach the trigger on his visor and the blast the guy in front of him. Part of Logan wanted him to do it, but Cyclops wouldn’t. Instead, Summers stomped on the foot of the guy behind him, simultaneously lashing out with his left elbow deep into the guy’s side. The attacker loosened his chokehold and it was enough for Scott to flip him off and send him crashing into the fifth assailant. Scott shot Logan another look and Logan gestured that he was on his way. 

By now, the first guy was picking himself off the floor but Summers hit him again as he was standing up. 

“Stay down,” Cyclops ordered. 

As Scott spoke, the guy he’d hit with the chair had picked up the same chair and brought it down over Summers’ back. It shattered, sending Scott sprawling. Summers was down but definitely not out. Logan saw him grimace. There would be bruises on Scott’s back by the evening, but Summers rolled away before the second guy could tackle him on the floor. In an instant, Cyclops was back on his feet and taking the second guy down again. 

It was when the knives came out that Logan growled and joined the fight.

* * * * *

For as long as he remembered, which Logan reckoned wasn’t even half his life since the only memories he possessed were the ones _after_ Weapon X had scrubbed his brain clean, he’d never really been able to tell the difference between sex and fighting. Both got the adrenaline going, both aroused him. Maybe that’s why Summers turned him on so much. Cyclops shouldn’t have been that good a fighter, not when he was so young, not when he’d been in more sims than actual combat situations. Not to mention that he was the field leader of a vigilante superhero team. Christ, what was Xavier thinking training _teenagers_ to be fighting machines? The X-Men didn’t sanction lethal force as Cyclops made abundantly clear, but Xavier was far more militaristic than most people realized.

It was probably Logan’s inability to differentiate sex and fighting that led to what happened next, when the crew that had been harassing Nancy had been reduced to a pile of unconscious bodies with some broken bones and a healthy number of bruises, around them. At least, that’s what Logan told himself when he was finally able to think about it later, attempting to rationalize his total lack of control. What he did remember was grabbing Scott by the arm, while the other man protested. 

“Logan, we can’t just leave!” 

“Ain’t leaving,” Logan told him, even though he was hauling Scott away. 

“We haven’t paid the bill!” 

Logan turned back to Nancy, who was standing outside the circle of unconscious men, her eyes wide. 

“We’ll be back,” Logan told her. “Just gonna get cleaned up.” And then he was propelling Summers in the direction of the men’s room at the back of the bar. 

“Let go of me,” Scott was saying as Logan pushed him into the small men’s room. 

Summers was never able to finish his thought because Logan had dragged both of them into the only stall and practically shoved the other man down on the seat of the closed toilet bowl. 

“What are you doing?” Scott asked incredulously, looking up at Logan in the crowded stall. 

Logan firmly believed that actions spoke louder than words. He’d answer Summers’ question by _showing_ him, which is why he dropped to his knees. He didn’t sense any fear or arousal from Scott, just confusion. The confusion grew as Logan made quick work of Scott’s belt and zipper, taking out his flaccid cock. Logan took a moment to admire it. Naturally, the pretty boy would have a pretty cock. Logan thought it was perfect, just like the rest of Summers. He wanted nothing more than to stuff his mouth full of it, but even in his lust-filled haze he still had enough sense to look at Summers, to gauge the other man’s reaction. He wanted this more than anything but he wasn’t about to force the other man. He wasn’t Sabretooth.

For Scott, confusion had given way to shock, but there was also an undercurrent of morbid curiosity and . . . yes, faint though it was, the first stirrings of arousal. Logan’s grin must’ve been feral. So, the idea of Wolverine submitting to him turned Cyclops on. Logan filed that bit of information away for the future. Scott’s reaction was all the permission he needed. He spit into his palm and grabbed the base of Scott’s cock while he began suckling the tip. He heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man, and waited a beat for Summers to tell him to stop. 

_Last chance, Cyclops,_ Logan thought to himself. 

The command never came and Logan threw himself into the blowjob in earnest. Summers didn’t strike him as the ‘experienced’ type and blowing the kid in a ratty restroom in a dusty bar hardly seemed the best way to seduce him, but Logan was adaptable. He could work with what he had, and right now he finally had Scott Summers. 

Scott’s perfect cock was rapidly hardening under his touch. Logan took more of the organ in his mouth, massaging the underside with his tongue as his hand continued to work the base. The flesh felt like heated velvet to him. Scott’s scent had been imprinted on him. Logan would never forget it. He saw how the X-Men’s Fearless Leader was gripping the toilet bowl with both hands in an effort to control himself. Logan grinned around the cock, and increased his suction. With each slide in he took more of Scott’s cock in his mouth. He was going to make the Boy Scout lose his fabled control.

When Logan felt the first thrust from the other man, and the tip of Scott’s cock hit the back of his throat, he smiled again. 

_C’mon, Cyclops,_ he mentally goaded. _Fuck my mouth._

The next thrust was shallow, but Logan relaxed his throat and met Scott halfway. Scott was still gripping the toilet seat, but he was leaning backwards now, his breathing coming out in shallow gasps. Logan took the initiative, moving his head up and down as he continued his suction. He was used to being on the receiving end of anonymous back-alley blowjobs, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d given a blowjob but he was determined to give Summers the best damn blowjob of the kid’s young life. He seemed to be achieving his goal too, if the moans and gasps coming out of those perfect lips was anything to go by. When he felt a hand gripping his hair, he knew that the Boy Scout was near. Scott seemed to be trying to pry him off, but Logan wasn’t having any of that. He redoubled his efforts, the low growl in his throat his only warning to Scott to _Back off. Lemme finish what I started._ Scott let out his most obscene moan yet at that growl, the vibrations in Logan’s throat traveling up his spine. His grip on Wolverine’s head grew lax, but he didn’t let go completely. Contented, Logan continued with his task and when he felt Scott involuntarily jerk with the force of his release, Logan held those slim hips down with one hand and kept the other spread on Scott’s quivering thigh as he drank the Boy Scout down.

When Scott was boneless and slumped against the toilet’s tank, both hands hanging by his sides, Logan patiently tucked him back in, zipped him up and did his belt. 

“Barely got a stain on them pretty khakis,” he commented as his stood up, his knees protesting at kneeling on the dirty bathroom tile for so long. 

Summers was coming off the high of his orgasm; the down turning of his lips informed Logan as much. The Boy Scout looked distinctly displeased and Logan steeled himself for some kind of hissy fit. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott exploded. 

Logan crossed his arms and grinned lasciviously at the young field leader. “This ain’t sex ed, Summers,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Unless the Professor don’t have that on the curriculum?” he inquired, feigning politeness. 

“Actually, I’d call that assault.” 

Wolverine’s good humor evaporated instantly and he leaned in menacingly. “You were always in control,” he told Summers harshly. “I gave ya plenty of chances to tell me to stop, but ya never did.” He paused. “I think ya enjoyed it,” he went on. “Way more than you’ll ever be able ta admit. But that’s okay, Cyclops. I can keep yer secret.” 

Logan didn’t miss the flush creeping up Scott’s neck, nor the mingled scent of embarrassment and arousal that was filling the cramped space of the bathroom stall. 

Summers stood up, determination etched on his features; his body language closed and controlled once more. “This won’t happen again,” he said with a tone of finality. “And we will never speak of it.” 

Logan shrugged. “If you say so,” he said off-handedly. He’d never closed the door to the stall. There hadn’t been room to do so anyway and he’d found it secretly thrilling that anybody could’ve walked in on them, though Scott would undoubtedly have died of mortification. He could tell that Scott was about to push past him, and he grasped the field leader’s arm before Summers could exit the stall. 

“Whenever yer ready for round two,” he said, voice low and primal. “Ya know where ta find me.” 

He heard Summers’ breathing hitch and then the briefest spike of arousal at his words before Summers angrily shook off his arm and stormed out of the restroom. Summers was so incensed that he hadn’t even bothered to wash his hands. Logan had to bite back a laugh. He’d fantasized about getting under the other man’s skin, and now he knew how. That was the moment Wolverine decided to stick with the X-Men. Seeing how far he could push Scott Summers was going to be so much fun. Saving the world and helping fellow mutants was a nice bonus too.


	3. First Strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue is directly taken or liberally paraphrased from Ultimate X-Men 8-10.

Scott Summers was subdued as he maneuvered the bright-red Corvette through the slow-moving New York City traffic. Logan gave him a sideways glance before he snipped the end of a cigar. The Boy Scout couldn’t complain about his smoking here, not when they were riding in a top down convertible, one of Summers’ many toys. Logan had quickly learned that their field leader control freak was also something of a speed freak. He liked fast cars and fast bikes, and of course, his baby, the supersonic Blackbird. 

“Thought you’d be pleased about that,” Logan commented idly as he lit his cigar. 

Scott sighed. “The Professor isn’t going to be happy about this, Wolverine,” he said, adopting a familiar lecture tone. “Mutants using their powers to push ordinary people around is right down there with Saddam Hussein and sticking gum under the school desks, as far as Charles Xavier is concerned.” 

“Well, Charlie might have a black belt in tactical diplomacy, but I got a Masters in scraping dirt off my shoes, Cyclops,” Logan answered. “Colossus had a problem he was too scared to even _talk_ about, and now that problem is gonna be sending his mother a weekly fruit basket.” He threw Summers a wolfish grin. “The way I see it, we were looking after our own back there.”

Summers lips had drawn into a thin line. Logan’s reassurances hadn’t placated him one bit. “Tired of playing by the Professor’s rules?” he asked, echoing the question he’d asked Logan during their Arizona ‘day’ trip. “Is that why you’re taking off again tomorrow? What happened to sticking around for a change?” 

Logan inhaled the tobacco and blew out a puff of smoke before responding. Xavier didn’t scrimp when it came to the Cuban cigars. 

It had been five days since their trip to Arizona, five days of Scott mostly avoiding him and Logan’s patience wearing thin. So much for a clean slate. When he’d heard about Colossus’s trouble with his past employers – the Russian mob – Logan knew it was time to intervene. But instead of going it alone as was his usual MO, he’d walked up to Cyclops and asked the field leader if he’d like to join him to take care of some ‘personal business’ in the city. Summers had been with Storm and Hank at the time, and Logan didn’t miss the looks those two had exchanged as Scott had quietly considered his request. Summers’ had given him a brief nod to indicate his acceptance and then they were in Scott’s Corvette driving into the city. It was during the two-hour drive that Logan filled Scott in on his ‘personal business’ that actually had nothing to do with him at all. Even after hearing about Colossus’s troubles, Cyclops didn’t like the idea of strong-arming humans (even the Russian mob), but he didn’t back down either. Logan had instinctively known that Cyclops would never back down, especially if one of his teammates was in danger. Cyclops was an alpha and the pack leader. He would never back down where the team was concerned. It was another reason why Wolverine gravitated toward him. Logan didn’t want the responsibilities of being the pack leader, but challenging the alpha in Cyclops definitely turned him on. 

“Charlie’s got another lead about Weapon X,” Logan eventually said. “It’s worth checking out. You’re welcome to baby-sit me if ya feel so inclined.” 

He didn’t look at Summers this time, but he couldn’t help slyly smiling around his cigar. He could sense Scott’s discomfort. His invitation was the closest either of them had gotten to mentioning what had happened in Arizona. 

“No baby-sitting this time,” Scott said a little harshly. “Storm, Colossus and I are flying to Tokyo this afternoon.” 

“Oh yeah,” Logan drawled, completely forgetting about the Japanese talk show that had asked the X-Men to be their guests. “Your fifteen minutes of fame,” he teased. 

“Believe me, I’m not looking forward to it,” Scott replied grimly. 

Logan shrugged. “Then don’t go,” he said. 

“It’s called ‘responsibility,’ Wolverine,” Scott admonished him. “Besides, as everyone keeps reminding me, this is good PR. Not just for the X-Men, but for mutants as a whole.” 

“Call it what you want, Cyclops,” Logan said. “But we both know that you’d rather go on a trip with me than face millions of adoring Japanese fans, good PR or not.” 

Scott sighed again. Logan recognized it as the sigh of resignation. 

“It’s a tough call,” Cyclops said at last.

* * * * *

While Scott wouldn’t describe the X-Men’s first talk show appearance as painless, he supposed it could have gone a lot worse. Unfortunately, someone had neglected to inform them that Japanese talk shows were also game shows of sorts and he, Colossus and Storm had been put through the ringer in a series of games and a pseudo obstacle course that were all supposed to be in good fun, and had the added attraction of demonstrating their mutant abilities. Naturally, some of the instructions got lost in translation and there came a point when Cyclops was blasting anything in his path in an effort to make the games end faster. He had, by far, the best control among the three of them, and there was no way he was going to risk Storm unleashing a major lighting bolt in a closed Japanese television studio. Colossus did a lot of heavy lifting too – in a literal sense – as he showed off his immense strength and the resilience of his organic steel skin.

As they neared the end of their tedious ‘obstacle course,’ Storm grabbed him by the arm and said, “Easy with those optic blasts, Cyclops. Remember, these are probably the only six hundred people in the world who like us.” 

Scott gave her a wry grin and then proceeded to blast the last remaining target.

* * * * *

Scott was sitting with Jean and the Professor in the mansion’s kitchen enjoying some Chinese take out when it happened. Jean had been teasing him about his ‘strong, silent demeanor’ during the interview section of the Japanese talk show. (“Very leader-ly of you,” she’d said.) The reality was Colossus had done nearly all the talking with Storm providing an entertaining quip or two when the moment called for it. The former thief had a razor sharp wit that audiences found entertaining.

“Pete’s very articulate,” Scott pointed out in defense of his laconic participation during the interview. He’d sat at one end of the sofa, which just happened to be end that was furthest from the interviewer. Colossus had been in the middle, while Storm had sat on his other side. “I thought he did a great job.” 

“Indeed, Peter was an excellent representative, not just of the X-Men, but for all mutantkind,” the Professor smoothly said. “You all made us proud,” he added. 

“That was some exit, Scott,” Jean went on. “A vertical landing of the Blackbird right in front of the steps of the building of the studio surrounded by hundreds of fans?” 

“Probably the X-Men’s only six hundred fans as Storm pointed out,” Scott replied. “Besides,” he added. “It was a convenient way to get out of signing autographs.”

Jean shook her head in admonishment but she flashed him a warm smile that made Scott think there was hope for them after all. What had Wolverine said? Jean was interested in him, if only he would man up and ask her out. Scott frowned slightly as the thought of Wolverine lead him to consider their wayward teammate in earnest. He wondered if Logan had already checked in with the Professor about his latest lead on Weapon X. He’d forgotten to ask Logan where he was headed this time. Maybe it wasn’t too late to catch up with him. After all, his baby was fast. 

Scott was just about to bring up the subject of Logan when suddenly the power went out. Jean groaned in irritation, but all Scott could see was the glowing target on her shoulder and a matching target on the Professor’s chest. He recognized them instantly. Laser scopes. 

“Hit the floor!” he ordered. 

Before Jean and the Professor could obey his command, an explosion rocked the kitchen and they were all thrown out of their chairs. Scott landed on the ground hard, but not as hard as Jean and the Professor. Still disoriented he looked to his left to see Jean out cold on the kitchen floor. He searched the debris for Charles Xavier and saw his mentor lying similarly unconscious. Scott grimaced as crawled to his feet, crouching on the ground and using the overturned kitchen table as cover as he peered through the hole that had once been a kitchen window. This was a coordinated attack. The explosion in the kitchen had just been one of many. With the Professor and Jean both unconscious, he had no way of contacting the other X-Men. He was on his own, and all he could do was hope that Beast, Storm, Colossus and Iceman had avoided the blasts wherever they were. 

Scott had no idea who was attacking them or for what reason, but staying behind the kitchen table and other debris, he mounted an attack of his own. His power was versatile. It was useful both in covering long distances as well as in close quarters combat. He could see men moving just beyond the perimeter of the mansion and he made a mental note to tighten up security at the perimeter when this was over. He began firing at the armored vehicles that he could see and any more of those flashing scopes that had hit Jean and Charles. As the targets fell away, his concern grew. This was a military attack. Who could have found out about them and who would be brazen enough to attack them knowing that the X-Men had the support of the President of the United States? He’d just reached the disconcerting conclusion of Weapon X when a quick lash removed the visor from his face. 

“Dammit,” he cursed, shutting his eyes instantly. He whipped around, knowing that somehow somebody was in the room with him. Before he could even get his bearings, something knocked him hard on the head and he crumpled to the floor.

* * * * *

When Scott came to, Jean was hovering over him. She looked worried as hell, which immediately told him that they were in a lot trouble. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but all he succeeded in doing was grimacing at the pain in his head.

“Careful,” Jean said, as she helped him to sit up. “I heard you put up quite a fight.” 

The smile Scott was able to give her was more of a smile than a grimace this time. “Not good enough of a fight,” he said ruefully, feeling around the back of his head for a conspicuous lump. 

“There was nothing we could’ve done, Scott,” Jean replied. “We were ambushed, plain and simple. By professionals.” 

“Do you know where we are?” Scott asked, finally taking a good look at their surroundings. They were in a large cell with a transparent force field marking the cell’s entrance. 

“Not where, precisely,” Jean admitted. “I woke up here.” She gestured to their new home. “Just like you. But I know who’s got us.” 

At Scott’s questioning look, she said grimly, “Weapon X.” 

Scott didn’t let his dismay show. This was his worst fear, and the same conclusion that he’d arrived at before being knocked out at the school. Instead, he pointed to the force field sealing their cell. 

“Is that a dampener?” he asked. He didn’t think so, but he had to be sure. He was still wearing his visor and he could feel the ruby quartz lens keeping his power in check. But perhaps if he moved closer to the force field . . . 

“No,” Jean answered. “They don’t need dampeners to keep our powers in check.” She tapped her head. “We’ve been implanted with a nice microchip that’ll detonate if we try to escape.” 

_Figures_ , Scott thought. Weapon X was nothing if not efficient. 

“And our friends,” he questioned. “Storm? Hank? Pete? Bobby? The Professor?”

“Everyone’s here,” Jean replied. “They’re in the cells around us, except for the Professor. I don’t know where they’re holding him.” She dropped her voice. “There are other mutants here being held against their will. They helped capture us.” 

“Like him?” Scott gestured to the sleeping figure on the other bunk across from where they were sitting. The guy was sleeping facing the wall, so Scott couldn’t see what he looked like but it was hard not to notice the blue furry skin or the long blue tail. 

“That’s Kurt,” Jean explained. “Teleporter. He’s just a kid. Doesn’t speak a word of English. I’ve been communicating with him telepathically. He’s tried to escape a few times. Hasn’t gotten very far.” 

“Teleporter,” Scott repeated thoughtfully. “He was probably the one that snuck up on me and knocked my visor off,” he mused. 

“He was,” Jean confirmed. “That’s how I know you gave the bastards a hard time.” She smiled, reaching out to brush her hand through Scott’s hair. 

“How long have I been out?” he asked, tugging her towards him. 

Jean fell into his embrace easily, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just a few hours,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“We’re gonna get out of here, Jean,” he told her, just as softly. “All of us.” 

“I know,” Jean said, and Scott could hear the conviction in her voice. 

“You know what else?” Scott added. “The Professor’s been helping Logan track down Weapon X.” 

Jean lifted her head, understanding dawning on her as she looked at Scott. “You think Logan’s going to come looking for us?” 

This time Scott’s smile had the steel edge of Cyclops. “I know he will,” he said. “Wolverine’s got a score to settle.”

* * * * *

Despite Scott’s fighting words, he knew that they wouldn’t be able to escape immediately and so he bided his time, patiently observing their guards and learning their routine, taking note of the surveillance system and other security measures, and generally gleaning as much information as he could about their surroundings and their captors. The biggest problem, of course, was the microchip implanted in each of them. They’d have to figure out a way to neutralize that if there was to be any hope of escape.

The first week at Weapon X was spent entirely on testing and experimentation. Their captors wanted to find out the extent of their abilities and this process was less painful on some than others. Scott knew he had it easy compared to his friends. He’d never unleashed the full power of his optic beam before, but the Professor had once told him that he was basically a walking weapon of mass destruction and that was all he needed to know. As for the Weapon X scientists, they were satisfied once they saw him blow the top off a snow-capped mountain, causing an epic landslide. That was one test Scott hadn’t minded performing because it allowed him to go outside of the Weapon X facility. He’d even had a bird’s eye view of the area as he’d been in a helicopter at the time. The facility was isolated out in the mountains. Judging by the landscape below, Scott’s best guess was somewhere in Europe, possibly Scandinavia. 

In the coming weeks, Scott was thrown into multiple attack, siege or defense scenarios, not unlike the Danger Room simulations, just with more extreme tactics and objectives. Scott frequently found himself paired off with Jean or Kurt or both of them. Occasionally, Storm would join them and it became clear to Scott that they were being groomed to be a team with him as the team leader. He never saw Hank, Bobby or Piotr, but since Storm shared a cell with Hank he had some idea of how the other X-Men were doing. Hank had had the worst time of it, and Storm tearfully recounted how he’d been tortured, the Weapon X scientists activating his mutation to its fullest extent so that his body had physically changed. 

“They laughed and mocked him when his skin turned blue,” Storm said, her eyes brimming with tears. “They said he now looked like the Beast of his name.” She roughly brushed away her unshed tears. “They’re the ones who’re animals,” she said viciously. “And they’re going to pay for what they’ve done.” 

Scott stepped forward and put a hand on Storm’s shoulder. “Stay strong,” he told her as a beeping that they’d grown accustomed to began to sound. It meant that the next simulation was about to start. “Jean and I are working on a way to get out of here.” 

Storm nodded. “We’re ready whenever you are, Cyclops,” she said.

* * * * *

Scott counted the days of their captivity. He even got to know some of the mutants who were captured before them since they were his immediate cellmates. While Kurt (codename: Nightcrawler) was a gentle soul, he couldn’t say the same for Cain Marko (codename: Juggernaut). Juggernaut’s cellmate was a slim girl called Rogue who spoke with a southern drawl. Scott soon learned that she was one of the most powerful mutants he’d ever met, but Weapon X had so psychologically damaged her that she was completely subservient to the program. By contrast, being the newest recruit until the X-Men came along meant that Kurt still had fire in him and Cyclops had earned his trust almost immediately. It helped that Scott began teaching Kurt some basic English skills. Since they were obviously expected to work together, Scott had to be able to communicate with Kurt even if Jean wasn’t around.

“Do they have German translators here?” Scott asked Jean one day. “Kurt’s been here for months. How have they been talking to him?” 

“They _haven’t_ been talking to him,” Jean replied. “Until I made contact with him telepathically, Kurt hadn’t spoken to a single soul since Weapon X kidnapped him.” 

“ _Arschlöcher_ ,” Kurt said and Scott grinned. He’d picked up some German too.

When the X-Men had reached their one-month mark, the powers that be decided that they were ready for their first mission. Scott lead a team comprised of himself, Jean, Kurt and Storm into a secure military bunker somewhere in India. Details were sketchy (Colonel Wraith, the head of the program preferred to keep his ‘assets’ in the dark as much as possible), but the gist of the mission was that they were the clean up crew to whatever mess S.H.I.E.L.D. had left behind. It was the first actual confirmation Scott had to the rumor that Weapon X was the black ops arm of S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently, even S.H.I.E.L.D. needed dirty work to be done from time to time. 

“Finishing Nick Fury’s assignment,” Colonel Wraith had spat into the com system as Cyclops and his team were air dropped onto the secret bunker. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s golden boy has fucked up, boys and girls,” Wraith said with too much glee. “I want you to destroy whatever it is you find in there.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cyclops said through gritted teeth. Although he loathed working for Weapon X with every fiber of his being, he also recognized that whatever was behind those bunker doors was probably a major threat to both humanity and mutantkind, especially if Nick Fury had originally been tasked to deal with it. He’d gleaned that Fury had been captured and that Beta Team led by that brute Sabretooth was going to rescue him. Scott may have hated Weapon X’s methods, but maybe they could still do some good. 

The bunker was relatively easy to penetrate. Storm created a weather distraction inside while Nightcrawler teleported in and basically opened the doors for the rest of them. Cyclops set his optic blasts to stun and once the doors were open, he knocked out all the guards that were wondering what the hell was going on (since when did it rain indoors?) in the hangar. 

“Oh, Cyclops. You’re such a boy scout,” Colonel Wraith laughed through Scott’s earpiece. “When are you going to realize that you’re not an X-Man anymore? You don’t have to keep holding back with those low impact optic blasts.” 

“Maybe Scott doesn’t take as much pleasure in hurting people as you do, Colonel,” Jean replied coldly as they entered the bunker. 

“In six months time, you’re gonna find that sentence as hilarious as I do, Marvel Girl,” Wraith said. 

“Two teams,” Cyclops said crisply, tuning out the Colonel. “We have to find that weapon. Nightcrawler, you’re with me. Storm and Jean, it’s your job to look for the brains behind this operation.” 

After the team split up is when things started to go downhill. Cyclops and Nightcrawler were able to locate the ‘weapon’ easily enough. The thing was ginormous so it would’ve been damn hard to miss. What Colonel Wraith had neglected to mention was that the weapon wasn’t a piece of technology. No, as Dr. Cornelius, the chief scientist of the Weapon X program, informed them; the monstrosity that they were looking at was made of fifty-seven different varieties of mutant gene spliced together. 

“Thank god, we got it in its incubation period,” Dr. Cornelius finished off. “At least that should make it easier to kill the blasted thing.” 

Cyclops could feel his conscience stirring as he placed his hand against the glass wall of the giant incubator. “To be honest,” he told Cornelius. “I thought we were sabotaging a tech-weapon. It’s different knowing the target has a pulse.” 

“Get over it, Cyclops,” Wraith barked back. “That beast has twenty-two hearts and no recognizable brainwaves. It’s just a melting pot of genes, and no more human than you are, my friend. So, pull the plug before base security figures out where you’re hiding!” 

No sooner had Wraith spoken those words than base security did turn up. 

“Cyclops! _Vorsicht!_ ” Nightcrawler yelled as the guards opened fire on them. He lunged, pushing Cyclops out of the line of fire, but the bullets pelted the incubator behind them.

“Oh my God!” Scott yelled, as the glass of the incubator smashed and the monster fell out onto the open floor. The water that had helped suspend the creature flooded the laboratory. The creature was awake and when it lifted its disfigured head, its gaze landed squarely on the two of them. It roared and began to make its way toward them, crawling on its oversized body. 

Kurt was yelling at Scott and gesturing at the detonator in Scott’s hand. Unfortunately, Scott’s beginner’s German was nowhere near proficient enough to understand what Kurt was saying, but his inference skills were just fine. 

“Get us out of here!” he ordered at the same moment that he pressed the detonator for the bomb that they’d planted in the laboratory. 

The two of them materialized outside of the blast range, sprawled in a mass of ungainly limbs on the floor. Kurt fell on his back, muttering something in German. Cyclops vaguely translated it to be an expression of relief . . . or possibly cursing. 

“Hey, runts. You still alive?” 

“Thanks for the consideration, Colonel,” Cyclops snapped. When he glanced back at Kurt, the look on the German’s face told Scott that his teammate was probably cursing.

* * * * *

Killing that genetic horror wasn’t the worst thing about their first mission. No, the most horrifying moment of their first mission for Weapon X was when Colonel Wraith had forced Jean into executing a civilian scientist with her telekinesis in exchange for Cyclops’ life. Cyclops had been curled into a tight ball of pain at the time, barely conscious of what was happening as the neural implant in his brain threatened to explode. He remembered telling Jean not to give in, but it was the Colonel’s response that haunted him the most.

“Very noble of you, Cyclops,” Wraith had mocked. “But put yourself in Jean’s size fives. Could you let _her_ die if the situation was reversed?” 

Before Scott had even blacked out from the pain, he’d known the answer to that question.

Back in their cell, Scott held Jean for hours until she’d eventually cried herself to sleep. He didn’t know what to say to her. There was _nothing_ he could say to her. Dr. Pandya wasn’t an innocent man. He’d been conducting terrible mutant experimentation and had created a truly terrifying weapon that his superiors were going to launch against Pakistan. But he’d also been a husband and father, trying to do what was best for his family. At the end of the day, Dr. Pandya hadn’t had much choice in his actions. Like them, he’d been forced to do what he was doing. It didn’t make his actions right, but it also meant he didn’t deserve to die. Scott thought about all this as he laid Jean down in her bunk and tucked her in with the thin blanket that they were given. Jean was so exhausted that she didn’t even stir. Scott sat beside her as she slept.

It was late and everyone around him was sound asleep. Kurt was sprawled in the bunk above Jean’s, his tail hanging over the side. Juggernaut was snoring up a storm as was his custom (he pitied Rogue), but the rest of them managed to deal with it. Most of the time, they were so tired they collapsed in their beds, Juggernaut’s snoring be damned. Today would’ve been no different, except . . . 

Scott ran his hand through Jean’s short hair. She stirred, but didn’t wake. 

The sound of the main cell doors opening caught Scott’s attention. Someone unexpectedly opening the doors this late at night really meant only one thing – a new occupant. Scott felt his heart harden at the thought that another innocent mutant had been caught to be used for Weapon X’s program. He stood up and silently walked to the entrance of his cell to get a look at their new cellmate. 

Sabretooth led the way, and Scott had never seen the Weapon X lackey smiling with so much malicious pleasure as he walked by. Behind Sabretooth were two security guards, each one dragging a foot of their new prisoner. Scott managed to hold back a gasp when he saw who it was. He barely recognized the person since they were literally smoking. What was left of their clothes was in tatters and burned completely into their skin. For anyone else, those burns would’ve been fatal. A thick trail of blood was left behind as the guards dragged the mutant into the empty cell beside Scott’s. 

Scott heard Sabretooth’s voice clearly and he spoke with a smug satisfaction that made Cyclops want to blast that bastard into the next century. 

“Welcome home, Wolverine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Scott and Logan barely interacted in this chapter. Hey, blame Millar. I'm following his storyline. But there will definitely be much more Scott and Logan goodness in the last chapter, so hang on! :)


	4. End Game

Logan lay on his bunk and let his healing factor do its job. He couldn’t be sure but a few hours must’ve passed by now. He had a tendency to lose track of time when his body slowly stitched itself back together from the really bad ones. Being recaptured by Weapon X qualified as ‘a really bad one.’ He’d been conscious by the time he’d been brought back to Weapon X’s holding cells. He’d even seen Cyclops’ horrified expression as he was dragged by the Boy Scout’s cell. He’d have thrown Scott a reassuring remark thinly disguised as a barbed joke except that his vocal cords hadn’t yet reconstructed themselves at the time. At least, they’d dumped him in the cell right next to the Boy Scout. 

“Logan? You awake?” 

Scott’s voice was low but Logan felt like Scott was talking directly into his ear. Then he realized that Scott’s bunk was probably next to his own and he was speaking through the wall that separated them. Logan cleared his throat, testing if his vocal chords were functional again. He thought they were, but his throat was so dry.

“Not much for conversation right now,” he rasped, hoping Scott could hear him. “Trying to re-grow a lung here.” 

“You don’t have to talk,” Scott answered. “Just listen.” There was a long pause before Scott said, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Logan asked, genuinely surprised. 

Scott was silent for so long that Logan thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. But then Scott continued. “I’m only beginning to understand,” he said, so quietly that Logan had to use his hyper senses to hear him. “What it must have been like for you here. We’ve only been here for six weeks, but we’ve already gone through so much. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be Weapon X’s lab rat for years. Years of being treated like an animal, of being tortured and experimented on, of being forced to kill and doing other unspeakable things.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that. No wonder you hate people as much as you do. And the fact that you could still embrace the Professor’s dream after all you’ve gone through here . . .” Scott trailed off. “I don’t know what to say to that.” 

Logan swallowed the suspicious lump that had formed in his throat. Compassion was a word that was rarely in his vocabulary, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to get any of that from _Cyclops_.

When Logan spoke again, his voice was stronger and more playful. “You sound like yer ready for round two,” he commented. He could practically feel Scott’s puzzlement radiating through the wall. Just like he could feel the moment Scott figured out what he meant. 

“I’m being serious here,” Scott said, his voice filled with exasperation. 

Logan smiled to himself. He’d missed pushing Cyclops’ buttons, missed getting under the kid’s skin. He missed _him_. “So am I,” he said, his smile coming through in his voice. “I came here to find you.” 

Logan heard Scott’s sharp intake of breath. 

“You mean you came here to find the team,” Scott corrected. 

Logan shrugged, even though Scott couldn’t see it. Of course, as soon as he did that he regretted the action as his body protested painfully. “Them too,” he agreed. “But mostly I came to find you.” 

“Why?” 

The question seemed to slip out of Scott’s mouth before he could stop it. It was filled with wonder and confusion. 

“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Logan asked in return.

“Obviously not,” Scott replied. 

“Will you two just get a room?” an irritated voice barked. 

“We’re _workin’_ on it!” Logan shot back. He’d been so absorbed in his conversation with Cyclops that he hadn’t noticed that Juggernaut’s snoring no longer reverberated around their cells. 

“Be careful what you wish for, Wolverine,” Juggernaut sneered. “If Sabretooth finds out that you’re sweet on the pretty boy, here, he’s gonna make life a helluva lot worse for him. You know how Sabretooth likes to play with your toys.” 

“Sabretooth should know by now that I ain’t big on sharing,” Logan snarled. 

“Don’t think he got that memo,” Juggernaut replied. 

“Scott,” Logan said, dropping his voice and ignoring Juggernaut. “Just sit tight. We ain’t gonna be here much longer.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The cavalry’s on its way.”

* * * * *

Logan knew that Scott wouldn’t ask any more questions after that. Cyclops didn’t trust everyone around them or the surveillance system constantly monitoring them. It was enough that he knew that there was a plan, and that Wolverine getting captured was somehow a part of it.

Unfortunately, Logan didn’t get a chance to see Scott. The following day, Sabretooth hauled him off in a van with a small security force. By Logan’s estimate, they drove about ten miles away from the Weapon X compound. 

“You dragged me out here for a barbecue?” Logan sneered, as the soldiers brought him to where Sabretooth was standing in front of a shiny, red barbecue grill. The soldiers kept their automatic weapons trained on him and Logan had no choice but to stand in the wintry cold of Scandinavia, shirtless and with his hands manacled by adamantium cuffs. 

“Kinda, I guess,” Sabretooth replied with a shrug. “Except we ain’t gonna be cooking any burgers or steaks at this shindig.” His smile grew feral as he gripped the handle of the lid of the grill. “No, me and the boys got an altogether more exclusive menu in mind for the cocky little escapee who made us look like idiots these last coupla years. Right, fellas?” Then he made an extravagant show of lifting the lid. “What do you reckon, old buddy?” he asked Logan mockingly. “Does this look good enough to eat? Or does it need a little extra special sauce?” 

Through the headlights of the van that Logan had been brought in, he could clearly see the thick sheaf of papers that were on top of the grill. The bulky folder on top read: S.H.I.E.L.D.: ABOVE TOP SECRET. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Logan growled. 

“Oh yeah,” answered one of the soldiers smugly. 

Logan took a step forward but the shifting of the soldiers’ guns held him in place. 

“Three hundred and seventy-five pages on your very own codename, Wolverine,” Sabretooth gloated. “Has everything about how dumb you were in school to the day that we dragged you in here and wiped your mind to the point where you couldn’t speak English anymore, boy. Might even have a word about your dear old dad in there.” 

Logan was doing his best to keep his rage in check. There was no way he could free himself from his adamantium restraints. Sabretooth the sadist was dangling his whole life in front of him, all the memories they’d stripped him of, the life he could no longer remember. _This_ was the reason he had been searching for Weapon X. Sure, he wanted his revenge, but more importantly, he wanted what Weapon X had taken from him – he wanted to _know_. 

“It’s really quite the page-turner,” Sabretooth added, as he pulled out a matchbox. 

“And now you’re just gonna burn it and make me watch?” Logan asked. 

Sabretooth’s razor-sharp teeth gleamed as he smiled. “Pretty much,” he said, tossing a lit match onto the pile. 

“You son of a . . .!” Logan yelled, as he lunged forward. 

The three soldiers opened fire just as Wolverine hit the grill, knocking it over with his momentum. But it was too late; the papers had caught fire and were burning, their ashes being blown away by the freezing wind. 

The soldiers continued to fire at him until Logan was immobile on the ground from the pain and weakness of his entire body being riddled with bullets. Sabretooth towered over him. 

“Well, what did ya think we were gonna do? Flip through those files and reminisce about the good ‘ole days?” Sabretooth laughed and crouched beside Logan’s prone body. “I _hate_ you Wolverine,” he stated. “Ever since you waltzed in here with powers like my own and fooled everyone into thinking you were top dog. Who’s laughing now, old buddy?” 

Logan smiled a bloody smile into the pristine snow. Then he really did begin to laugh. The soldiers exchanged puzzled looks and Sabretooth’s good humor evaporated. He stood up again and placed a foot on the side of Logan’s face, mashing it into the snow. 

“What’s so funny, runt?” he sneered. 

Logan continued to laugh, even if it meant eating and then coughing up some snow. 

“You looking forward to being a lab rat for the next hundred years?” Sabretooth taunted. 

All the while Logan continued to laugh, until Sabretooth’s patience ran out. 

“WHAT’S SO FUNNY, RUNT?” he screamed. 

“I was just thinking that your scientists must’ve looked at my med work-up by now,” Logan said casually. “The one they did yesterday when you brought me in.” 

“Yeah? So?” 

“So, your scientists must’ve seen that anomaly in my large intestine and figured out what it was. And I was just laughing at what my Brotherhood pals are gonna do to you, Sabretooth. You and your Weapon X cronies. Driving me all the way out here for some privacy?” Logan laughed again. “That base of yours is already overrun.”

* * * * *

The large explosion outside the Weapon X headquarters cut the power throughout the facility and the force fields protecting all the holding cells shut down at once. The back up generator _did not_ kick in.

“Is this some kind of trick?” came Bobby’s faint voice from the other end of the cellblock. 

“No trick, Iceman,” Cyclops answered loudly. “Everyone, let’s go.” 

Kurt had already leaped off his bunk and was standing on Scott’s left, while Jean stood on his right. In the cell opposite them, Juggernaut and Rogue had stepped outside. Cyclops led the way and the other mutants fell into step behind him. 

The group of guards that they ran into at the entrance of the holding cells looked absolutely terrified of them, but the senior officer stepped forward holding a switchboard detonator in his trembling hand. 

“Back to your cells! All of you!” he barked in a steadier voice than his appearance would suggest. “The power may be out, but I can still blow all your neural implants. This is your only warning!” He held the detonator aloft to prove his point. 

An unexpectedly low, sultry chuckle made everyone look to the end of the hallway. 

“Well, that would be true,” the Scarlet Witch said seductively as she stalked towards the two opposing groups flanked by Quicksilver on her right and Toad on her left, the rest of the Brotherhood following behind them. “If their neural implants were still in their heads.” She stopped, resting one gloved hand on her hip as she opened the other one for everyone else to see. In the palm of her hand was a pile of microchips. Wanda flashed Scott a warm smile, followed by a coy wink that had Jean rolling her eyes. 

“Abracadabra,” the Scarlet Witch said.

* * * * *

Sabretooth roared with rage. Fucking Wolverine had duped him again. He stood at his full height as Wolverine got to his feet. Most of Wolverine’s bullet wounds had healed, and the rest would soon be. The three soldiers that had accompanied them climbed back into the van and drove back to the facility. They wanted no part of this mutant showdown.

“Like the enhancements?” Sabretooth asked when he’d unleashed his new adamantium claws. 

“ _Four_ claws on each hand, huh?” Wolverine observed. “You really put a lot of thought into the redesign, Sabretooth. That should definitely shake your rep as the made-in-Hong-Kong version of me.” 

“Had the teeth done too, spitball,” Sabretooth shot back. 

“Beautiful,” Logan complimented. 

“The Brotherhood attacking Weapon X?” Sabretooth continued. “Weapon X will send a condition red to every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent on the continent. I couldn’t think of a better time to off you and get away with it.” 

“So, what’re you waiting for, handsome? Take a slice.” 

Sabretooth’s patience for banter had run out (he wasn’t very adept at it anyway) and he ran forward, slashing wildly with his new adamantium claws. Even with his hands cuffed, Logan dodged out of Sabretooth’s way easily. 

“That’s right, bub,” he goaded Sabretooth. “Keep swinging those claws and making a fool of yourself. The only thing more suspect that your fighting skill is that big fur coat you were waltzing around in back there.” 

“SHUT UP, WOLVERINE!” 

Logan began to laugh again. Sabretooth had an even shorter fuse than he did and Logan knew just how to light it. Every time. Sabretooth may have been a trained fighter, but too often he relied on his brute strength and healing factor. No one could claim that Sabretooth was a _tactician_. Briefly, his thoughts flitted to Cyclops, who was a master of strategy. It made Logan unreasonably proud to think that the kid would run hoops around Sabretooth. He wondered if Scott had taken charge of the assault against Weapon X. He’d bet good money on it. Since Magneto’s death, Wanda had taken over running the Brotherhood. She respected Scott and would follow his orders in battle. 

Sabretooth lunged for him again and timing it perfectly, Logan held up his hands so that those shiny new claws cut cleanly through his adamantium cuffs. _Finally._ Now they could get on with it. 

“Adamantium teeth, adamantium claws, and two trained soldiers with a mutant healing factor,” Logan mused as he took his first swipe at Sabretooth. “Wonder how this is going to turn out?” 

“Messy, by the looks of it,” Sabretooth answered, landing a powerful backflip kick that sent Logan flying. 

The fight was vicious, as all their fights were. They each landed blows that would’ve been fatal to mere mortals, but their healing factors kept kicking in and patching them back up. There came a point when Sabretooth was drowning him in a freezing cold stream that Logan could actually feel his brain cells exploding, and he briefly thought he might be on the losing end of this fight. That is, until he spied something special to Sabretooth and lashed out with one adamantium claw. 

Sabretooth released his chokehold on Logan instantly and let out a long howl of pain. Logan stood up, still unsteady from the asphyxiation. 

“At least I got enough brains ta cover my family jewels in a fight!” he roared. 

Before Sabretooth could recover from losing his ‘family jewels,’ Logan rushed him like a linebacker and the two of them toppled head first over a three hundred foot cliff.

* * * * *

“No . . . more . . . killing,” Kurt said slowly in his heavily accented English before he passed out. At his feet, Colonel John Wraith was coming to. Weapon X was destroyed, the scientists under lock and key, the soldiers taken out. Wraith had been trying to make his escape until Storm had unleashed a lightning bolt on his helicopter, and Nightcrawler had teleported inside to save him. What was Nightcrawler’s reward for a daring (and possibly undeserved) rescue? The Colonel pulled out his gun.

“Beautiful last words, Nightcrawler,” he said, aiming the weapon at Kurt’s head. “I’ll treasure this moment until the day I die.” 

Cyclops’ finger was on the trigger of his visor and he was about to knock the weapon out of the Colonel’s hand, except somebody beat him to it. The only difference was this person shot to kill, putting three bullets in the Colonel’s chest. Wraith fell back into the snow, his blood staining the white velvet. 

“Who in pity’s name, _now_?” Cyclops cried, whirling around and coming face to face to a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier and hundreds of armed S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers. Standing in the front of this group was a black gentlemen with an eye patch dressed in a dapper white suit. He was holding the gun that killed John Wraith. 

“Nick Fury, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he answered. “I don’t think we’ve actually met, Cyclops.” 

Beside Scott, Pietro immediately sprung into action. “X-Men, you take the two hundred soldiers on my left,” he yelled. “The Brotherhood and I will take the four hundred on my right. I don’t know how much fight we have left but this shouldn’t be _impossible_.”

“Whoa, hold on there, cowboy,” Fury said, raising a placating hand. “The guy we’re after is lying bleeding in the snow. As far as I’m concerned, the rest of you are free to go. It’s the least we can do after enduring the horrors of this rat hole.” 

“And why should we believe you?” Wanda challenged, stepping forward. “Why should you give us amnesty? I’m sorry, but I tend to be suspicious of international spy networks and their well-paid stooges.” 

“Not when they’re with me, you shouldn’t,” Wolverine answered. 

“Wolverine?” Wanda questioned, as a worse for wear Logan made his way to the powwow outside what was left of the Weapon X headquarters. 

“Who do you think sprung me out of this dump two years ago last Christmas?” Wolverine replied, giving Fury a curt little nod. “I asked the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to join us. I figured somebody would have clean up when we were done here.” 

“Logan,” Scott said, walking towards him. “What happened to you? Last we heard, Sabretooth and some guards had taken you out into the woods.” 

Wolverine flashed the Boy Scout a surprisingly disarming smile. “Well, I guess the guards spooked when Wanda and Pietro attacked the base. They left Sabretooth and me to duke it out in the snow for a few hours. Big lunatic was really sticking it to me too until I football tackled him off a three hundred foot cliff.” 

“What happened then?” Colossus asked. 

“Well, let’s just say that I woke up first, Comrade.” 

While he spoke, Logan never took his eyes off Scott, checking the other man for any injuries. Summers looked great, and he still had that maddeningly fresh scent about him even though he’d been fighting for who knows how long. He’d been away from the other man for so long that his clean scent was practically an aphrodisiac to Logan. 

Fury coughed discreetly. “Hate to break up this touching reunion,” he said, addressing both Wolverine and Cyclops. “But do you kids need a ride home?” 

“That would be great, Mr. Fury,” Scott replied.

* * * * *

The S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier was surprisingly comfortable for a military transport. Its medical facilities were also state-of-the-art, which was fortunate given how badly the Professor had been injured. In his panic, Wraith had shot Xavier three times rather than risk the powerful mutant waking up and lobotomizing them all when the Brotherhood had cut the electricity. It was only through the efforts of Dr. Cornelius and Hank who managed to stabilize the Professor until they could get him to a proper hospital, or in this case a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay. Saving the Professor’s life didn’t give Cornelius a pass – he was only trying to save his own skin, believing that the Professor was the only person left who could’ve prevented the escaped Weapon X subjects from ripping his head off. (He’d been right on that score.)

The X-Men (plus Nightcrawler) were the only ones who hitched a ride home with S.H.I.E.L.D. The Brotherhood had their own transport and was none too eager to share where their headquarters were now. Each of the X-Men had been given their own room in the personnel quarters of the helicarrier. S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to put them up in a hotel when they reached New York while the school underwent renovations. The attack by Weapon X a month and a half ago had left a lot of work to be done. 

Scott took in the sights of the helicarrier as he went in search of Wolverine. Fury had told him that his best bet would be the mess hall, where Logan knew where to find the secret stash of beer. 

“You carry alcohol onboard a military transport,” Scott had asked somewhat incredulously. 

“Cyclops, I’d be a damn fool not to,” Fury had replied. 

Sure enough, Scott found Logan sitting by himself in the quiet mess hall after dinner, drinking his third bottle of Budweiser. 

“You’d think Fury would have something better than this piss poor crap,” Logan complained as Scott joined him at his table. 

“Don’t look to me for commiseration,” Scott said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m fine with orange juice.” 

Logan gave a half-smile at the small jab and lifted his bottle towards Scott in a small toast. “Fair enough,” he agreed. He eyed the other man. “What brings you here, Cyclops? Ain’t it past your bedtime?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Scott admitted. He paused. “And . . . I wanted to check on you.” 

“Check on me?” Logan repeated with a raised eyebrow. 

“Things happened so quickly earlier,” Scott explained. “Didn’t really have a chance to make sure you were okay.” 

“Just your typical concern for another teammate in captivity?” Logan prodded. 

“Something like that,” Scott said evasively. 

“Dunno what you expected to find,” Logan went on. “All good here,” he said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Scott said, starting to feel a little foolish. Of course, Logan was fine. At least, physically. That’s what the healing factor was for. He was thinking of a way to excuse himself (never mind that he’d just _arrived_ ), when Logan spoke. 

“Maybe you just missed me,” the other man said. There was something teasing in his tone. 

Scott’s automatic reaction was to take offense, but he bit it back. To his own surprise, he decided to play Wolverine’s game. “And what if I did?” he asked instead. 

Logan’s grin was decidedly wolfish. “I’d call it progress,” he said. 

“I was worried – we,” Scott quickly corrected. “ _We_ were worried about you after Sabretooth dragged you into the woods.” 

“Touching,” Logan replied, with only the barest hint of sarcasm. “But Sabretooth was nothing I and a three hundred foot fall couldn’t handle.” 

“Did you kill him?” Scott asked quietly. 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Logan answered. “Sabretooth was a fucking psychopath. He _enjoyed_ the killing.” 

“That’s what Weapon X did,” Scott said, deliberately using the past tense. “They turned people into killers. I almost killed today. I _wanted_ to. Rage blinded me. I was so . . . angry . . . at everything that had been done to us, at everything Weapon X had done to all mutants.”

“What stopped you?” 

Scott sighed. “Jean,” he said. “She was the only one of us that Wraith forced into killing, and yet she was the first one to stand against killing anyone today. Colossus would’ve collapsed an entire building filled with scientists and soldiers and I would’ve let him too if Jean hadn’t talked us down. Even Storm would’ve murdered Wraith for what he did to Henry if Kurt hadn’t pulled Wraith out of that chopper.” 

“Can’t say Wraith didn’t deserve it,” Logan said, taking a swig of his beer. “And trust me, I’d _know_.” 

To Logan’s utter shock, Scott reached over and took the beer from him. He watched as the Boy Scout drank from the bottle and he inwardly smiled as Scott wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

“That _is_ bad,” Scott agreed, handing the bottle back to Logan. 

“I s’ppose you’d know that from your extensive beer drinking experience,” Logan chided. 

“I just broke the Professor’s no underage drinking rule,” Scott reminded him. “I thought you’d call that progress.” 

“Uh-huh,” Logan agreed. “Guess I’m corrupting young minds after all,” he said. 

Scott looked thoughtful as Logan polished off the rest of his beer. “In the end, I think Wraith got what he deserved too,” he said at last. “But I’m glad I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.”

“Yer not a killer, Cyclops,” Logan told him steadily. “And I hope you never have to cross that line ‘cos there’s no coming back from it.” 

“You think that’s what happened to Sabretooth?” 

Logan laughed outright at that question. “Hell no,” he said. “Sabretooth was _always_ a killer. Said it was part of his nature. Weapon X just gave him an excuse to do what that sick bastard loved.” 

“So,” Logan said, drawing out the word into the companionable silence that had fallen between them. “Your room or mine?” 

Even with the visor on, Logan could feel Scott’s gaze sharpen. “Does everything always go back to sex with you?” Summers asked a little disbelievingly. 

Logan almost laughed again. “When it comes to you?” he said. “Pretty much.” 

This time Scott couldn’t quite contain his shock and his mouth dropped open. 

“Better close that,” Logan told him. “Or I’m gonna fill it with something else.” 

Scott instantly shut his mouth at the lewd innuendo and his thoughts inadvertently returned to a dirty bathroom stall in Arizona. Logan appeared to be reading his mind based on the lascivious grin he was flashing Scott’s way. 

“I don’t get you,” Scott said with a shake of his head. “Chasing after Jean, I understand. Jean’s special. But me?” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Is this some kind of bet you’re trying to win? Can you get into Cyclops’ pants?” 

“You really think I’d make that kind of bet?” Logan asked, amused. Then he thought about what he’d just said and nodded. “Yeah, I would,” he conceded. “But this ain’t about that. No one’s trying to win any bets here.”

“Then what is this about?” 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Logan mused. He leaned forward and dropped his voice conspiratorially even though they were alone in the mess. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, Cyclops,” he said. “People either want to fuck you or _be_ fucked by you. That’s just the way it is.” Logan leaned back again. “Maybe you’d notice that if you spent more time interacting with people instead of sims.” 

Scott bristled. “Training in the Danger Room is an essential part of –” 

“Never said it wasn’t,” Logan cut him off. “But y’know Hank has designed some pretty awesome XXX scenarios too.” 

“And so we’re back to sex,” Scott groaned. “Not to mention a misuse of school facilities.” 

“Nothin’s being misused if Charley-boy don’t know about it.” 

“Do you really think anything goes on in that school that the Professor doesn’t know about?” 

“Yeah, all right,” Logan grumbled. “But he ain’t said anything about it.” 

Scott stood up. The turn that the conversation had taken was making him uncomfortable. “Since you’re okay,” he said a little lamely. “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Logan.” He started to walk away. 

“Another time then?” Logan called after him.

Scott halted at Logan’s words, but didn’t turn around. The question seemed harmless, but he knew that it was also loaded with meaning. It would be better if he didn’t say anything at all. But against his better judgment, he said so quietly that even Logan would have to strain to hear it, “Another time.” 

He left the mess hall with brisk, purposeful steps trying not to make it seem like he was running away. When he was out of sight and walking down one of the helicarrier’s silent corridors, he slowed his pace. He’d known from the start that dealing with Logan was going to be challenging, that the lone wolf would likely be an antagonistic, disruptive force, not to mention being a competitor for Jean’s affections. How he wished things had turned out that way. Logan was definitely challenging, but not in ways that he’d anticipated. How had _he_ become the focus of Wolverine’s attentions? And why did that thought not disgust or repel him, as it should? Why instead did he feel a thrill of guilty desire?

Scott was pondering all this as he rounded the corridor leading to their guest rooms. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and glanced behind him, mildly alarmed at the sight of Logan stalking towards him. He could feel his throat going dry. Had Logan actually followed him to his room? He didn’t think even Wolverine would be so bold. 

As if in answer to his question, Logan stopped at the door beside his and threw Scott a cheeky look. Scott returned the look with an amused smile before he could stop himself, shaking his head slightly as he unlocked his door. So, their rooms were side-by-side. God, Logan could be a sneaky shit. He was just about to open the door and step inside when he was suddenly pinned against it. Scott froze instantly, his fight or flight response kicking in. 

“Relax,” a familiar voice said and a little bit of tension drained from his body. 

“Logan, what –” 

A finger pressed against his lips silenced him. They stood that way for several long seconds until Scott could feel his breathing even out. Logan’s actions baffled him, and just when he thought nothing was going to come out of it, the other man leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Scott’s lips. Scott tensed again briefly, but the kiss was chaste and undemanding, the opposite of what their encounter in Arizona had been. Before Scott realized it, he was returning the pressure and then _he_ was the one opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. Logan tasted of beer and was a surprisingly good kisser, not that Scott had much experience himself. He wasn’t the blushing virgin that Logan probably thought he was – far from it – but his clients back then hadn’t been too big on kissing. It had been about going straight to business, and like the consummate professional he was, Scott had been good at his job even if that had meant sucking cock.

This time, Logan let him lead and Scott took his time exploring, curving himself against Logan’s body, only dimly aware that one of Logan’s arms had wrapped itself around his waist and was supporting him. He thought of the first time Logan had kissed Jean out in the garden of the school, how Jean had literally swooned in Logan’s arms; how he'd seen everything from a third story window of the school and had felt the first stirrings of jealousy and resignation. But it was _Logan_ he'd been jealous of, not Jean. Logan was a master seducer and now Scott struggled not to be another notch on his belt, not to be the one swooning in his arms. But it was also undeniably sexy to be desired like this. No one else on the team saw him this way, not even Jean, which was probably all for the best. It would be too hard to lead if you were romantically involved with another team member. Hmm . . . did he just associate Wolverine with the word ‘romance’? Scott almost laughed at the thought. It was the most absurd one he’d had yet. 

It was Logan who eventually ended the kiss. He hadn’t actually released Scott yet, and Scott’s hands were lightly resting on the other man’s waist. He was still leaning in with his eyes shut and Scott got the impression that Logan was memorizing his scent. It was a strange and heady mixture, and he knew his heartbeat had quickened at Logan’s proximity.

When Logan finally did pull away, he looked straight into Scott’s line of sight and said, “Good night, Cyclops.” And then he left Scott alone in the silent corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic doesn't want to end, much to my chagrin. Millar's storyline ended with the breakout/shut down of the Weapon X facility. I'll need one more chapter to wrap things up.

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel and Fox. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
